O Lord, outside our balcony
the pine tree is gloppy with snow
it can’t shake off.
Now the children
have snow to play in.
Noises are muffled.
It’s not so deep
that people can’t get to work.
It’s a beautiful covering
for the end of the holiday.
Thank you, Lord,
that we can stay in
and not need to shovel.
We can enjoy the beauty of it.

Psalm 147:16-17:
He gives snow like wool; he scatters frost like ashes. He hurls down hail like crumbs—who can stand before his cold?

Hymn: In the Bleak Midwinter


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